


fall fashion, mental breakdowns & other agreste-induced forms of general catastrophe: a guide

by arouria



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: F/M, LadyNoir - Freeform, Marichat, again rated t solely bc i can't write without curse words everywhere sry but then again not rly, also tv remotes are stolen and marinette vows to chuck chat off a rooftop by the end of the night, and /definitly/ some shenanigans, general teenage disaster, reveals are a thing that (sort of) maybe kinda happen possibly, some ladynoir, some marichat, there may or may not be a fashion show and dancing, u know the drill
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-13
Updated: 2016-01-13
Packaged: 2018-05-13 17:09:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5710336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arouria/pseuds/arouria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Chat Noir makes a mess out of literally everything and Marinette contemplates the pros and cons of drop-kicking him over the edge of the Eiffel tower. </p>
<p>--<br/>"Well, uh, the show must go on?"</p>
<p>"I'm going to kill you."</p>
<p>"With kindness?"</p>
<p>"With my foot. To your face."</p>
            </blockquote>





	fall fashion, mental breakdowns & other agreste-induced forms of general catastrophe: a guide

**Author's Note:**

> alright kiddos so right off the bat let me tell you: this fic is a mess. and actual disaster to the point i'm sure chat noir himself would be proud. now, is it a beautiful disaster? maybe. yeah. let's go with that. optimism is the fruit of immortality or some other bs to that general effect, you get the point so lets run with that one.
> 
> anyways, this fic started out as a /drabble/ that i wrote like a century and a half ago and was somehow magically convinced to finish by @mahalicious, @asterbells, and besh ((new-life-means-new-chances.tumblr)), so if you're reading and suddenly go "huh, this fic really switches track" just know that this was a 2 page long thing that became a 20 page 2 /chapter/ long thing so there ya go. 
> 
> this one goes out to the miraculous trashcan, bless you all.

* * *

 

 

“Chat Noir! I swear to every god that has ever existed if you don’t get your stupid butt over here right this instant I am having a security system installed _tomorrow_!”

Muffled laughter rings through the empty hallway and Marinette is outright _furious_. Damn that cat. Damn every cat ever! Of _all the days_ to prance into her house and steal her TV remote it just _had_ to be the day of Gabriel Agreste’s Fall Fashion Show premiere. Adrien was in it. _Adrien_ ! She _could not_ miss this! She _would not_!

She rounds a corner into her parent’s bedroom and thanks her lucky stars the two are staying over at her aunt’s house tonight— she wasn’t entirely sure she could explain why she was chasing one of Paris’s famous superheroes through their house like a woman on the warpath.

“I know you’re in here!” Marinette glares around at the furniture, “Cough it up, Chat, if I miss this show because of you, I’ll be personally escorting your ass into the Seine!”

“Princess! Language.” A cocky snicker fills the room, and Marinette whips her head towards the sound— only to find Chat himself sprawled out on their lounge with that stupid shit-eating cheshire grin of his plastered across his face. He twirls the remote effortlessly in his hand and looks _all_ too pleased with himself for someone who basically just broke into her house.

“Give it here.” Marinette beckons, wriggling her outstretched fingers. Chat _purrs_.

“Now where’s the fun in that? I thought we agreed you’d have to catch me first.”

“I agreed to no such thing! You’re the one who broke into my house!” Marinette counters and Chat scowls.

“ ‘Broke in’ is such a harsh term, ‘dropped by for a visit’ sounds so much better.”

“No,” Marinette huffs, creeping closer, “When _normal_ people ‘ drop by for a visit ’ , they use the _door_ , not my freaking skylight!”

Chat shrugs and Marinette swears she’s never seen his grin bigger, “Got me there.”

_Now!_

Marinette launches herself at the TV remote and Chat’s eyes widen a second too late as he attempts to scramble out of the way— Marinette plows into him and sends them both tumbling to the floor in a frenzy of tangled limbs and strangled yelps.

But Marinette is a woman on a mission, and while Chat is still trying to figure out how he somehow ended up pinned underneath her, Marinette is already making a grab for the TV remote that he had dropped in the fray.

Chat recovers in the nick of time.

With a snicker he rolls her under him and succeeds in thwarting Marinette’s plans to snag the remote on the offense, much to her absolute infuriation.

“Chat Noir, you will allow me to retrieve that remote _right this instant_ or I swear I’ll — . ” Her breath catches in her throat in a kind of horrible instantaneous revelation that sends her heart rate skyrocketing into overdrive because: _oh shit this is sort of a compromising position why is my heart suddenly beating so fast shit shit shit since when did he get that close oh_ **_fuck_ **

“Swear you’ll what, _Princess_?” Chat hums, sounding like honey and danger and a thousand and one warning bells going off in her head. Marinette all but dissolves as she desperately tries to string her thoughts together again.

“I’ll— I’ll um, ” _Get it together! Letters + brain = words, Marinette!_

“Yes?” He practically whispers, deep green eyes calculating, assessing, _smoldering_.

She shivers under the weight of his gaze.

_This is bad bad bad bad_ _—_ He finds himself drawing closer and her pulse leaps, traitorous heartbeat thudding in her ears because; what the hell is it exactly she wants him to do? What does _she_ want to do?

_What would Ladybug do?_

Moot point, she argues, Ladybug would not _be_ in this situation because she actually had braincells and her priorities straight.

“Hello? Earth to Marinette? You still in there?”

Chat’s voice breaks through the roaring in her ears and suddenly the world slams back down into proportion around her again. Air rushes back into her lungs and for some reason Chat doesn’t seem quite as close, so utterly _encompassing_ , as he was before.

Marinette is still trying to get the gears in her head to start turning when she realizes he’s probably waiting for an answer.

“I’m fine!” She screeches indignantly, trying desperately to ignore the fact her mind had just wondered places it was _most definitely not_ supposed to be wondering, or visiting, or even be considering vacationing for a long weekend because, um, _hello_ this was **_Chat_ **??

_Oh my god I can'_ _t believe that just happened._

Her face burns and Chat’s eyes are suddenly the size of dinnerplates as she desperately scrambles sideways out from under him, looking for something, _anything_ , to stop her traitorous mind from replaying the last ten seconds over and over again.

The remote!

Her savior! The Messiah itself!

She snatches the thing off the floor so fast that Chat hasn’t even had time to move from his dumbfounded position staring at the empty space between the floorboards before she bolts out of the room like there’s a tornado at her heels.

Chat continues to stare at the floorboards.

That had almost been very, _very_ bad. Like holy shit grand proportions of _you almost_ _seriously fucked up buddy._

Because for a second there, for a beautiful, blissful, _incomprehensible_ fraction of a second, he had wanted to kiss her. Badly. _Achingly_ so, to the point where his mouth was dry and he wasn’t even entirely sure he was still breathing.

He’d been so caught up in her flare— in her sass and passion and flashing azure eyes that he’d forgotten that it was _Marinette_ he was chasing through her living room and not…

And not Ladybug.

And that was dangerous. Oh so very very world-shatteringly _dangerous_ , for a multitude of reasons.

Mainly just two reasons, actually. Neither of which he can bring himself to completely comprehend while on his hands and knees boring holes into the hardwood floor. With a sigh of defat he manages to push himself upright and desperately tries to pretend his head isn’t spinning at a hundred miles an hour and his heart isn’t threatening to break right through his ribcage.

“Chat!” Marinette’s voice rings through the house and his ears twitch as he leans to peak out down the hallway, only to find Marinette’s hand frantically waving at him from the kitchen entrance.

“Hurry up or I’m not going to save you any popcorn!” Her hand disappears back into the kitchen and Chat feels a laugh building up in the back of his throat. Leave it to Marinette to prioritize food.

He scurries into the livingroom just in time for to have a bag of microwavable popcorn chucked in his face.

“Gah!” He sputters, flailing ridiculously in attempt to get a proper hold on the thing and nearly spilling the contents all over the floor in the process, “Was that _really_ necessary?!”

“Totally.” Marinette chirps, shoving another handful of popcorn in her mouth. Chat glares.

“I’m wounded, Princess.”

“I’ll get over it.”

The two meander their way to the couch, Chat still sulking in defeat as Marinette spins the TV Remote victoriously between her fingers.

“What is it you’re so desperate to watch, anyways?” Chat huffs as he falls back onto the seat cushions, looking irritated.

“Oh, don’t get your tail in a twist, kitty,” Marinette grins, plopping down unceremoniously beside him, “It’s Gabriel Agreste’s Fall Fashion Premiere, it’s basically the biggest event of the entire season, even _you_ should be at least mildly entertained.”

Chat chokes on his popcorn kernel.

“The premiere is _tonight_?!” He squeaks an octave too high, instantly paling.

“Um, yeah?” Marinette sends her friend a confused glance as she flicks on the event channel, only to be greeted by the thundering voice of the host over the speakers:

_“--adies and Gentlemen! Alec here, if you’re just tuning in, the hunt is still on for famed model and the star of tonight’s show--Adrien Agreste! With only twenty minutes on the clock, all of Paris remains on the edge of their seats in--”_

Marinette blinks a couple times, staring at the television in disbelief, “Adrien’s… missing?”

Chat tries _very hard_ not to spontaneously combust on the spot.

He was _so_ dead. Beyond dead, actually. His father was going to kill him and then invest in necromancy to find a way to resurrect him, and then proceed to kill him again. Then maybe kill him a third time, just for good measure.

_Think Adrien, think! You need an excuse!_

“I--uh, um, just remembered!” Chat suddenly shouts with a little more force than necessary, instantly bolting onto his feet and nearly giving Marinette a heart attack.

“Just remembered what, exactly?” Marinette presses, looking lost.

“That, uh....oh! That Ladybug and Chat Noir are supposed to be at the event!” Chat exclaims, thanking what little, pathetic amount of luck he still possessed for his coherent reasoning.

“WHAT?!” Marinette suddenly chokes, catapulting upright besides him and sending popcorn flying in all directions, “Did you just say Chat Noir _and_ Ladybug? As in both of them? At the event that’s happening live **_right_** **_now_**?”

“Yep! That’s what I said,” Chat laughs nervously, eyes anywhere but the girl in front of him. He’d never really been all that much of a fantastic liar, and he _seriously_ couldn’t afford to blow the entire charade now.

“Which is why I have to go! Like now!” He adds a little too quickly, internally cursing as the event host continues to drawl on in the background:

_“_ _..and Gabriel Agreste himself has finally made his appearance! Still no sign of his son, Adrien, however--”_

Chat makes a small noncommittal noise of fear in the back of his throat and Marinette suddenly claps her hands together in understanding.

“Oh, oh _really !_ ” She laughs a couple octaves higher than normal, looking just about as strained as her partner.

“Well, uh, looks like you gotta go then! Like right now right this very instant—” She practically shoves Chat in the direction of the door, “You wouldn’t want to be late for _that_ now would you? Betcha Ladybug’s already there waiting!”

_I doubt it._ Adrien internally deadpans, seeing as he'd just made up the entire invite thirty seconds ago.

Marinette yanks the bakery door open and all but tosses Chat out into the street, “OkseeyalaterChatbye!”

Chat blinks just in time to have the giant wooden door slammed in his face, leaving him to stare blankly at the giant curling letters of their “Closed” sign.

“She sure seemed eager,” He huffs to himself as he turns to take off towards the rooftops. He supposes she only has his best interests in mind, though, since he really _can_ _’_ _t_ afford to dally any longer than he already has. He settles on this as her reasoning for basically kicking him out of her house on the spot and launches himself onto the nearest building top

Meanwhile, Marinette proceeds to have a breakdown.

“Oh my god Tikki, how could I not have known about this?” She hisses to her kwami as she paces back and forth across the kitchen floor, “You think I would have remembered being invited to the event of the century!”

“Oh Marinette, maybe you just forgot?” Tikki offers, looking just as confused as her chosen.

Marinette sends the kwami a withering look and she shrugs her tiny shoulders in return, “Well you could have.”

Marinette sighs and falls back against the kitchen counter, worrying her lip as she tries to sort out the details of the whole disaster in her head.

“Maybe someone told Chat and he forgot to tell me?” She tests, snapping her fingers in conclusion.

“Maybe,” Tikki laments, and Marinette has the sinking feeling the kwami knows more than she’s letting on.

She sighs to herself and shakes her head to rid herself of the thought. Tikki was honest, and Marinette trusted her. Even if she _was_ hiding something, it was likely with good reason.

“Anyways,” The teen pushes herself off the counter and makes a dash for the front door, “We definitely can’t afford to hang around here any longer.”

She swings open the giant frame and does a quick double take to make sure Chat hadn’t decided to linger before turning to Tikki in determination, “If Ladybug really _is_ supposed to be at this event, _Marinette_ needs to pick up the pace,”

“Wait, something's not—” Tikki starts, suddenly panicked, but it’s too late. Marinette bolts for the rooftops.

“ _Spots on!_ ”

 

———

 

Usually, Adrien doesn’t mind being the embodiment of disaster. It has it’s perks, for the most part; he gets to save the world, hang out with Ladybug, and pull crazy unrealistic superhero stunts right out of his ass—like now for instance, where he is attempting to make it halfway across Paris in under five minutes.

And yet currently, being the embodiment of bad luck freaking _sucks_. Big time.

The sad part is, he’s not sure if it’s because he’s late to the event of the century—an event that he’s the _star_ of, he feels the need to add—,  or because he had to leave Marinette’s house to attend.

He’s starting to think it’s the second.

_Re_ : Not Good.

A flash of light suddenly beams in his peripheral vision and Chat rounds his way toward the source, following the growing muffled cheers of the civilians below.

“Quite a turnout,” He mutters to himself, stretching upright on a nearby rooftop to assess the crowd. Flashing stobelights pierce through the night sky and dance across the surface of the surrounding buildings, camera lights twinkle like blazing stars amongst the roaring sea of people and he tastes the energy like a tangible static in the crisp autumn air.

It ignites a fierce sort of passion within that him he hasn’t felt in quite a while, and he’s not sure whether he should credit the feeling to being Chat Noir, or the fact that deep down, maybe there really _was_ still a boy who was just born to love the stage.

Well, if a boy like that really _did_ exist, he’d be living under layers and layers of instinctual irritation and dislike bred by his father’s ruthless conditioning, so he chalks up the rush of excitement to Chat Noir’s neverending enthusiasm and makes the final leap onto the tower roof--

\--and proceeds to crash right into someone with the same idea.

“Owwww…” Adrien groans, rubbing the spot on his forehead that had taken the brunt of the collision.

“Ugh…” The stranger bites out in familiar irritation, and Chat’s heart freezes mid-beat.

From the other side of the roof, a figure shakes itself free of the gravel debris and stands just in time to have the cascading stobelights illuminate her silhouette from behind--dark, bound back hair, striking azure eyes, lithe, graceful posture-- and suddenly, in crashing, roaring, life-changing instantaneous realization, he _sees_ it.

He sees _her_.

“Hey kitty,” The figure grins down at him from above, silk black hair pooling over her shoulders as she tilts her head in confusion at his shocked expression. His heart instinctively ricochets against his ribcage

“Ladybug?” He whispers, and honestly he’s surprised he even manages that much.

She lets out a dazzling laugh and hauls him off the ground in a single fluid motion, “Duh, who else, silly?”

He just stares at her in stupefied disbelief as Ladybug releases her grip on his hand and turns towards the horizon over the rooftop, “Really Chat, If we were making an appearance at Gabriel Agreste’s Fashion Show, you should have told me!” She laughs and moves to peer down over the edge of the railing, grinning excitedly. Chat’s ears ring and his lungs burn in his chest as he tries to remember exactly how to breathe.

“I had to find out from a uh--a third party that we were even supposed to be here,” She continues, letting out a quick hum as she drums her fingers against the cool metal railing. Her words fall on deaf ears.

“It’s been awhile since we were last at this place, right--” She twists her head back to meet her partner's gaze and instantly the grin on her face falters, “Chat?”

She abandons her post at the railing and moves instantly to his side, “Chat what’s--”

“I lied.” He breathes, wide-eyed and excited and looking like his entire world had simultaneously come crashing down around him.

“What are you talking ab--”

“I lied,” He interrupts her again, this time with far more conviction as he moves to lessen the gap between them, “Marinette, there was never any invite for Ladybug and Chat Noir to be here tonight. I made it up.”

“Wait a second, Chat what in the world are you--”

Everything stops.

Slowly, achingly careful, she takes a shaky step backwards.

“What did you just call me.” Her voice is barely over a whisper but he knows it’s not a question. Her voice holds too much conviction to need his reassurance.

“Marinette.” He repeats anyway, dark emerald gaze locking down on her own, drowning out her instinctual need to turn tail and flee as fast and far away as superhumanly possible.

“I’m sorry, that I lied to you.” Chat’s eyes briefly flick to the ground in guilt, “The truth is, I forgot about the show tonight. I needed a reason to leave without you suspecting anything.”

He smiles a little lopsidedly, gaze riddled and churning ferociously between hope and turmoil, “Although I guess that’s kind of pointless now.”

Air suddenly rushes back into Marinette’s lungs as words tumble out of her mouth faster then she can process them, “What-- What do you mean by _that_.”

_Another statement,_  he notes, and despite himself, he _grins_.

“I think you already know.”

Marinette opens her mouth to argue that, no, actually, she has absolutely _no fucking idea_ what is going on here when a booming voice suddenly drowns her out over the loudspeaker:

_“With five minutes until the first walk, Ladies and Gentlemen, it seems Adrien Agreste has still failed to make his appearance! What could tonight's star possibly be planning--”_

She doesn't catch the rest of the announcement.

She does, however, almost fall off the roof.

“Oh no no no no,” Marinette’s back hits the railing behind her and she grips the iron so hard her knuckles strain white.

“ _Adrien?!_ ” She screeches despite herself, some shrill mix between and an undignified squeak and her own shriek of absolute appalled horror.

Chat-- _Adrien_ \--laughs in somewhat more composed amusement and takes a low bow in Marinette’s direction, “At your service, My Lady.”

Marinette stops functioning.

Completely. 100% Power Outage. You could ask her what two plus two equalled and she’d probably tell you twenty-five because there is absolutely _no way_ she has the capacity to handle math on top of all _this_.

“Um, Marinette?”

No. Nope. Marinette’s not here. Her brain is currently stomping angrily around in a circle and waving a little “Strike!” sign while chanting something or other about higher wages and a “Too Much Life-Altering Shit In One Day” bonus demand. She is but a lowly baker. She can’t afford this. How will she feed her three children, Hugo, Emma, Louis, the dog, the hamster, she has a cat too right? No wait, maybe they got rid of that cat--

“Ooo-kay, so, I know that this is kind of a lot to process and all, I feel you, really, just went through the whole thing myself, _but_ \--” Chat suddenly latches onto Marinette’s hand and yanks her towards the metallic exit door, momentarily startling her out of her inevitable mental deterioration, “We _seriously_ have to _go_.”

He quickly pries open the metal latch and makes a mad dash down the stairs, keeping Marinette close in tow.

Finally he reaches a floor he seems content with and yanks them both out into the hallway, quickly scanning their surroundings in attempt to get a grasp on his bearings.

Distantly, Marinette hears the animated chatter of what sounds like _hundreds_ of other people echoing down from the other end of the hall, their words blurred and buzzed together almost indistinctly, minus one relatively terrifying booming voice from which she discerns what sounds like “Adrien” and “--where the _fuck_ ” from.

She’s just starting to really piece _that_ whole mess together when Adrien suddenly yanks them both into a broom closet.

And now finally, _finally_ , her brain starts to kick itself back into gear again. Because, uh,  _Hellooo!_ Dark closet alone with boy! Really attractive boy! Alone! Warning! Warning!

“Man that was _close_ , Hans totally almost saw us” Chat breathes in relief, voice low as he peers suspiciously through the metallic slits in the door.

Marinette blinks a couple times to clear the residual fog from her mind and has to suck in a breath as the entire situation finally crashes back into proportion around her.

Adrien is Chat Noir.

Fact.

But _she_ is Ladybug. Also fact. She saves Paris like every day. She beats the unholy shit out of bad guys in her free time. She can _totally_ handle being in a very tiny dark space with a boy she’s wanted to kiss her silly both in and out of costume for like a year now. Yes, she is the epitome of calm and collected. Yeah.

She screams.

“Woah woah woah!!” Chat jumps, looking panicked, “Ladybug, _Marinette_ , relax relax!”

He braces his palms against her shoulders she instinctively leans into his touch, using _way_ more willpower than should be necessary to keep herself from just sinking against him altogether. _File under: Dangerous post-reveal side effects of finding out the guy you like is also actually the guy you’re a little lowkey in love with._

“Ok.” She breathes, taking comfort in her partner’s familiar earthen scent and the almost miniscule distance left between them. _Same file._

“Sorry. I’m ok, Chat, I mean Adrien, I mean--god dammit _YOU_!”

Marinette flails her hands wildly at him in exasperation, momentarily riled, “Alright, you know what? Actually, no, I’m totally not ok. I will be, soon, probably, but first--just to get it off my chest--what the hell. Secondly, what the _hell_ , Adrien, **_why_ ** are we in a _broom closet?!_ ”

His hands stay steady on her shoulders as she makes out that infamous cheshire grin of his in the lowlight, and suddenly she’s not sure if she should thank him for keeping her upright or straight up punch him in the face instead. Maybe both.

“You called me Adrien.” He beams, looking all too pleased for someone Marinette is still lowkey considering throwing off a roof.

“I swear to god I’m going to punch you.”

He barks out a laugh and the pure velocity of his smile is starting to make her head spin, “Glad to have you back with us among the living, Marinette. I was scared you’d left us for Jupiter or something there for a while.”

She kicks his shin.

“Ow!” He scowls, shuffling to balance on his good leg, “What was _that_ for?”

“My sanity.” She grits out, praying that Chat’s nightvision didn’t encompass being able to see the flush of red in her face.

Without warning she sees Chat’s eyes widen and momentarily flick to the cracks of light in the doorframe.

“Hey, do you trust me?” He whispers out of nowhere, his face suddenly all too close to her own.

“What?” She shifts uncomfortably, startled by the underlying seriousness in his tone.

“After all this,” He breathes, the distance between them now nearly nonexistant, “Do you still trust me?”

“Always.” Her answer is instantaneous, tone so sure and determined that Chat is positive his heart is going to backflip right out of his ribcage for her. Marinette smiles in the darkness and raises her hand to rest on his jawbone, and he all but dissipates beneath her touch, “Chat Noir, Adrien Agreste.  _You_ , I will trust with my life until it ends.”

Wordlessly, Chat dips and presses his forehead against her own, Marinette hisses in a breath.

“Good,” He mutters, and she gets the instinctual feeling he wants to say more, “Because after this, you, uh, sort of may or may not ever want to talk to me again.”

“Chat?” She pulls back a fraction of an inch, just in time to see a wicked grin break out across her partner’s face.

“You said you trust me, right?” He repeats, and suddenly Marinette has the sinking feeling that something is about to go terribly, horribly wrong. Again.

“Yes.” She answers anyways, because it’s true, and his eyes practically twinkle at her in excitement.

“De-transform. Quick.”

She blinks once. Twice.

“What.” She deadpans, and she instantly goes back to weighing the pros and cons of socking him in the face. Chat’s grin only grows.

“ _Trust_ me.”

And she does. Unfortunately.

She lets her transformation slip away, fading out in a brilliant array of mystical colors and translucent undertones until Ladybug falls dormant and leaves just _Marinette_ to stare up at the shimmering green eyes of her partner.

Except it’s no longer Chat she’s looking at.

Adrien beams down at her from where Chat once stood, eyes wide and dancing with an unspoken anticipation for something Marinette couldn’t even begin to try and understand.

It takes every fiber of her being not to scream again.

“Get ready.” Adrien grins, and the sinking feeling in her stomach instantly triples.

“For what?” She’s almost afraid to ask.

“For this.”

Marinette’s face contorts in confusion and she’s just about to let Adrien and his half-rate riddles have a piece of her mind when fate decides that apparently, her day just hasn't been enough of a disaster yet.

The closet door swings open. Adrien grins like a madman, Marinette resolves right then and there to drop kick him into the Seine, and, predictably, her entire day takes a turn for the worst.

 

Again.

**Author's Note:**

> don't you love it when the entire actual rest of the real plot doesn't even fit in the first chapter wow gotta love that mmhmm yep


End file.
